Wishful Thinking
by SciFiNutTX
Summary: WIAWSNB - Sam AU. Instead of Dean being jumped by the djinn, it happens to Sam but the dreamworld is the same. Does Sam love his new normal life? Or does it turn into his worst nightmare?
1. Chapter 1

I know I owe a chapter on both L&D and LWD, both of which will be posting soon. But for now...I wondered what it would be like if the djinn got his hooks into Sam instead of Dean, but with the same dreamworld. (Plus, I'm kinda going through review withdrawal.)

I did get some overall feedback from a couple of people, but no real beta-ing, so all mistakes are mine! Mine, I tell you, Mine!!

This is what happened:

**Wishful Thinking**

_(What Is And What Should Never Be – Sam AU)_

Sam crept slowly through the warehouse, every hair on the back of his neck standing straight out. If Dean really didn't think the djinn was here, why would his brother have come back for him? Dean rounded the next corner and disappeared from sight. Sam moved to catch up. As he passed an empty room, he felt a cold chill. He looked back, into charged blue eyes and a face covered with tattoos. Before he could swing his silver knife around, the djinn caught him in a bear hug from behind, one hand pressed against his skull.

Sam jerked awake, fighting off the hands holding him.

"Sam!" a woman's voice admonished. "Sam, wake up!"

He rubbed sleep heavy eyes before looking around. Sam sat at a table covered with large textbooks and legal pads filled with notes in his handwriting. He flipped one of the books closed. A legal textbook. "What the hell is this?" he asked of the room in general.

"You not getting enough sleep," the woman's voice replied. It was very familiar. He froze, suddenly placing it. Afraid to look, to turn around, to see if it was who it had to be, Sam sat perfectly still. "Come on, baby. You need your rest. You can study on the plane."

On the plane? Sam still refused to turn around. "I'm flying?" he asked. That meant more to him than just going someplace, it meant Dean would not be traveling with him.

Her laughter sounded so good to his ears. Sam closed his eyes to let it wash over him. "Of course, silly. Did you want to drive to Lawrence for your mother's birthday?"

That sent him spinning around to face her, even if it might shatter this wonderful illusion. "My mother?" he searched Jess' face for deception, but he knew his Jess would never make such a callous joke. Then again, Jess was dead. This had to be some kind of impostor. "We're going for my mother's birthday?"

Jess smiled sadly at him. "Oh, baby, was it that nightmare again?" She slipped down to rest on the arm of his chair, her hands tangling in his hair. "The one where your mom died? Or the one where Dean stole your car?"

Sam dared to wrap an arm around her waist. She felt real. He pressed his fingers into the special spot on her hip and she wriggled and giggled. No one else knew Jess was ticklish there. Emboldened, he asked, "Dean steal my car? Come on, Jess. If Dean stole my car it would probably be to give it a tune-up."

She gave him a funny look. "Or to pay off some gambling debts."

He was about to defend his brother, but her lips pressed against his and he couldn't remember what bothered him, or why.

--

Sometime during the night, with Jess snuggled up close beside him, Sam decided this really intense dream might not be just a dream. If it were, he would have woken up long before now. Usually after going to bed with Jess he would wake up with a perma-grin and Dean's teasing to look forward to for the rest of the morning.

What if the djinn really could grant wishes? Granted, there was nothing in the literature about people actually living out their wishes, but the myth had to come from somewhere. Here he was in law school, Jess by his side, and on his way home to see Mom for her birthday. No way would Dean or Dad miss Mom's birthday so it would be a full family reunion, and Sam was excited about the prospect.

He grabbed Jess' hand after they found their seats on the plane. Kissing her palm to delighted giggles, Sam felt like he had been given a reprieve after the last year of hell. As the plane took off, Sam wondered what happened the night Jess should have died. Obviously his wish was for her to be alive. How did Mom figure into this?

"Jess?" he asked over the roar of the plane engines. "Can I ask you something that's going to sound kind of weird?"

Jess rolled her head to the side to look at him. "Is it about your brother? Because I am not putting up with his flirting this time. I'm just not, Sam."

Sam waved off her objections. "It has nothing to do with Dean. And don't let the flirting bother you, he's just like that."

She shrugged. "Okay. What's so weird?"

Sam chewed his lower lip for a second, wondering if he really wanted the answer to this. Yes, he did. "Last year Halloween was on a Friday, right?"

Jess got an odd look on her face, like she didn't expect the question to be this weird. She nodded slowly.

"So the following Sunday was the second of November. Did anything, ah, happen? That night?" Sam watched her carefully, looking for clues hidden in her reaction.

Her face fell dramatically. "Oh, honey," she whispered, stroking his arm. "There was no way we could have known. It wasn't anyone's fault." Jess laid her head on his shoulder. "I know you're still beating yourself up over not going home for your father's birthday, but there was no way you could know it was his last one."

"Last one," Sam repeated, a numb sensation crawling up his body. "Dad won't be there."

Jess sighed, shifting to look up at him. "Baby, I know it's still hard, but it'll get easier. You know, with time."

"Yeah," he breathed as he grasped her hand in his. At least Dean would still be there. Dean. Dad didn't die for Dean. Dean wouldn't be carrying all that guilt. Brightening, Sam realized his brother also never missed Mom, because Mom was still alive. What was a guiltless Dean like? What was Dean without excessive responsibility like?

Sam squeezed the warm hand clutching his. He smiled at Jess, causing her to look at him in surprise.

"It's going to be a good visit," he announced, a broad smile spreading over his face. Her jaw dropped open. "Really," he assured her. He couldn't wait to arrive in Lawrence and meet this version of his brother.


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting Dean

**Ch2: Meeting Dean**

Sam peered through the crowd waiting for loved ones at the airport. Jess pulled impatiently on his arm. Sam followed, still expecting his brother to pop out from behind a pillar or around a corner. They stood at the car rental counter where apparently they had a car reserved. Still no Dean. What could be keeping him? Surely Dean was as excited about Sam coming home as Sam was.

"Why didn't we let Dean pick us up?" Sam asked as he carried their bags.

Jess gave him that funny look again. "Because we actually wanted to get there?"

He didn't care for the tone she used. He really didn't. Sam chose not to comment. Clearly something happened between Jess and Dean, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. He didn't speak again until he was behind the wheel and driving through Lawrence. The last time he was here, the only time he actually remembered being in his hometown, Dean drove. Was the house in this neighborhood or the next one?

"Sam!" Jess shouted, pointing at the street he just blew by. "You missed the turn!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning the car around.

"Sam?" Jess stared at him as he pulled on to the right street. "Are you okay? Are you that worried about telling your mother?"

"Worried?" Sam asked, cutting his eyes to the side. Honestly, worried didn't even begin to cover this torrent of confusion.

"Your mother is going to be so excited, Sam!" Jess said with a laugh. "I mean, how many times has she said she would love grandchildren?"

Sam frowned at the streets. There was a turn coming up, he was pretty sure. "You're pregnant?" he asked, astonished. Really, he had more sense that that.

He felt her familiar slug on his shoulder. "Idiot!" She laughed again. "But I might be persuaded to give it a try after you pass the bar."

Was it this street? No, the next one.

"Wow," Jess said, "that really sent you for a loop, didn't it?"

"Huh? What?" he asked. These streets didn't look right.

"You just passed your mother's street," she replied.

"Damn it." Sam slammed on the brakes. He pulled over to run his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, Jess. Maybe I am a little stressed."

"A little?" Jess' hand worked its way up his arm to the back of his neck. "Baby, I haven't ever seen you this tense, not even when you took the LSAT. Is it because of Dean?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted as he leaned in to her touch. Her strong, lean fingers worked at the knots in his neck. "He should've been there to pick us up. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Oh, baby," Jess crooned. Her other hand rubbed his arm. "Most families have someone like Dean. It isn't your fault."

He turned to see if she was serious. "What isn't my fault?" he asked suspiciously.

"That your brother is a loser," Jess said disdainfully.

"Jess…" he started, but she cut him off.

"I know, Sam. Damn it, I know." She blew out a long breath. "But we're not at your mother's house yet, so I can still say it. I mean, after he stole your ATM card, and the way he's always hitting on me, how can she still defend him?"

Sam didn't have a good answer for that, assuming any of it was true. How could it be true? This was Dean they were talking about!

"Mothers are like that?" he suggested. Sam hoped he could find some middle ground between those two, or they were going to make his wish-come-true absolutely miserable.

The sour look on her face melted into something softer, sweeter. "And maybe I'll understand that one of these days, right?" Jess grinned at him. "You just don't give up, do you? I just agreed to try after you pass the bar, or were you so worried about seeing your brother that you didn't hear me?"

He lifted a tentative hand to her face. This was everything he dreamed of at eighteen. Here she was, sitting in the seat next to him, a vision of love and normalcy. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I guess I was distracted."

And maybe his wish wasn't for Jess to just be alive. Maybe he wished to be normal. That wish would explain a lot right now, from their engagement to Dad's death. These were the things which happened to all normal families. So did sibling rivalries, he realized somewhat belatedly.

Jess smiled back at him, the blinding smile that was his alone. "So when do you want to tell your mother we're engaged? When we get to the house or tonight at her birthday dinner?"

His heart ached as he gazed at her sweet, innocent face and that sexy smile. There was a time when he wanted nothing more in the world than to marry her. "When do you want to?" he asked simply, figuring she would have a much better idea than he ever would.

"How about dinner?" Jess smiled at him. "It would probably make a nice birthday present, don't you think?"

He rubbed a thumb over her cheek, surprised to find how soft it felt. Sam pulled his fingers away, rubbing them together. The skin on his hands was soft and smooth. It felt strange.

"Sure," he muttered, "sounds great." Sam put the car back in drive to head to his mother's house. This new reality had a lot of rules he didn't know yet, it would take some getting used to. They pulled up outside the house. Bright flowers filled the flowerbeds and the grass was a little too high.

They stopped in front of the house. Sam searched for any sign of the Impala, but the driveway was clear. Without speaking, Sam gathered their bags from the trunk before following Jess to the front door. It was weird to think any member of his family was actually in this house. The one time he had been here before was to save the woman who had moved in and inherited the evil that lingered after the fire. Now he expected to walk in and find pictures and mementos of his family, a family he never knew with memories he did not share.

"Sam!" A woman squealed through the screen door. It flung open, slamming against the wall. An older blond woman, who bore an unmistakable resemblance to the spirit he met in this house, rushed out to wrap surprisingly strong arms around his neck and plant a dry kiss on his cheek. "Oh, honey, it's so good to see you!" She stepped back, blocking his path. "You look good. I think Jess has been good for you." She smiled broadly, and he could see where his brother got his smile. "Oh, what am I thinking! Those bags must be heavy, come on, come in."

Sam followed slowly, awkward with the bulky bags. He might have to trade his suitcase out for a military surplus duffel, just to make it easier to carry.

"Where do you want these?" he asked softly after entering the house. Wow, it really looked different. The walls were still white, but there was a tasteful border and family photos everywhere. The furniture looked nice, not new but not worn either, just comfortable.

"Your room, silly," the woman who looked like his mother said, swatting at his shoulder. Sam smiled back as though he had been joking, wanting to put her at ease. There were pitfalls everywhere here, each step he took was on uncertain footing and every time he opened his mouth he risked people learning he did not really belong here. The sooner he could see his brother the better.

As he headed upstairs, Sam wondered which room was his. He remembered the girl's room where his mother had appeared as a flaming image in the closet. That seemed the most likely option, so he tried there first. Sam felt instantly comfortable as he passed the threshold. It was neat and tidy, the colors struck his eye exactly right, and there were more pictures up in here. Some were of him accepting awards, a soccer team, and various framed hand drawn pictures. Dean didn't appear once in here.

After depositing their suitcases in one corner, Sam checked out the other upstairs bedroom. It had been stripped bare, only a plain blue comforter on the bed. With a frown Sam searched for any evidence of his big brother, but there was nothing here, not even a comic book. Sighing in disappointment, he headed back downstairs. At the top of the stairs, Sam was hit with an inspiration. He pulled out his cell and tried Dean's phone.

"Yeah?"

Sam let out the breath he had been holding. "Dean. Where are you?"

"At the garage working, genius. What do you want?"

He frowned at the tone in his brother's voice. "Well, I just got to, uh, Mom's." Sam swallowed hard, wondering how much things had really changed. "I was wondering when I'd see you."

"Don't worry, Sam, I'm not going to crash your little evening catch-up. Carmen and I will come over right before dinner, because Mom asked us to."

"Dean, wait. That's not what I…"

"And no, I'm not skipping out on dinner. It's Mom's birthday. Yes, I remembered, surprise, surprise."

"But I-" Sam tried to protest.

"You didn't remind me. You didn't have to." There was a long pause as Sam's brain desperately tried to catch up. "Okay, fine, Carmen reminded me. But it still counts, because I told her when Mom's birthday is. So we'll see you tonight."

The phone went dead before Sam could muster a reply. What the hell was that? He stared at his phone in disbelief, only moving after he heard Jess calling for him.

Okay, Sam reasoned as he bounded down the stairs, maybe there was a little sibling rivalry between them. That had to be it. Some rivalry he could deal with, no problem. It was to be expected in normal families, right? Right.

Sam barely followed the conversation between Jess and Mom. He didn't have much to add because, honestly, he had no idea what they were talking about. He could throw in a comment or two with Jess, but he never really met Mom before today.

"So when is Dean supposed to get here?" he asked anxiously, an hour into a discussion about their friends at Stanford whose names Sam barely remembered. Dean he could deal with.

"Sam," Mom said with a sigh, "I wish you and your brother could learn to get along."

Sam stared at her in shock. They didn't get along? What the hell? It was just a little sibling rivalry! Right? "What?" he managed to croak out.

"He's not the same person who used to steal from you, Sam. I know you don't want to believe it, but Dean really has his act together," Mom explained, her face plaintively asking them to cut Dean a break.

Jess let out a snort that could not be interpreted as anything agreeable.

"Jessica," Mom leveled her soul-searching blue eyes on Jess, "please. Just wait until you meet Carmen. She's been great for Dean. He's showing up at the garage every day, even Mike is happy with him. And that's saying something, isn't it Sam?"

Two pairs of blue eyes bored into him. "Uh, yeah." Who was Mike and why would he care? "It's really saying something."

"You see?" Mom's shoulders instantly relaxed. "So we're going out to have a nice dinner as soon as Dean and Carmen get here." She shook her finger at Sam. "And we're not hanging around here long enough for you two to get into it."

Sam frowned. "I'm not getting into it with Dean." He paused, considering that. "Unless he has it coming."

Jess chuckled and Mom rolled her eyes blowing out a sigh. "Boys," she muttered, "I had to have boys."

Sam was saved from trying to figure out any more of this mess by a knock on the front door. Mom jumped up to answer.

"Dean! Carmen!"

Sam moved eagerly to his feet, stepping in front of Jess for a better view of the door. Dean strode through, a gorgeous brunette close behind him. Whoa. Definitely Dean's type. She had to be Carmen, unless Dean found someone at a bar on the way.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said.

Dean stiffened as he turned to face Sam. "Hey, Sam." His voice was flat and devoid of emotion.

Startled by the reaction, Sam could only stare. This looked like a lot more than mere rivalry between them.

"You must be Sam." Carmen's smile blazed up at him. Sam shook her hand automatically. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Uh, thanks. Carmen, right?" Sam swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Dean and Carmen. The sound of Jess clearing her throat in that aggravated way caught his attention. Sam dropped Carmen's hand to include Jess. "This is Jess. Jess, Carmen."

The girls exchanged pleasantries until Mom reappeared wearing a wrap. "Then we're ready? Let's go. Sam, I'll ride with you and Jess." She opened her arms to herd them all out the door. "We don't want to be late or they'll give our reservations away."

"Guess my car isn't good enough either." Sam heard Dean mumble under his breath to Carmen. Carmen shot him a look which clearly said 'not now'. She caught Sam's eye and blushed, looking away. Startled, Dean turned around. His brother didn't hide his irritation with Sam, glaring briefly before taking Carmen's hand to head to the waiting Impala.

Sam did not bother to listen to his mother and Jess on the drive to the restaurant, except when Mom gave him directions. "Really, Sam, I can't believe you don't remember how to get there," Mom complained. "Honey, is law school that stressful?"

It seemed to be as good an excuse as any. "I guess it is," he said. The way her brow crinkled and the worry lines around her mouth reminded him so much of Dean. He parked but did not shut off the rental car. "Mom? Dean and I don't get along." That was obvious so it wasn't really the question to be asking. "Did we ever?"

"Sam, I thought we weren't doing this today." Mom glared at him. "It's my birthday."

He grabbed her arm as she reached for the door. "I'm serious, Mom. Didn't we get along when we were kids? I mean, he's my big brother. Surely I used to follow him around, try to imitate him?" Sam searched her face hopefully. Maybe the fact they didn't get along now was something he could fix. After all, no one knew Dean like he did.

Her face twisted into concern and curiosity. "Well, yes, I guess you did that some. Usually it was just to run back to the house and tell on him."

Jess laughed from the backseat. "That sounds like my Sam!"

He thought he might be sick. Sam turned away from these people, these strangers. He exited the car anxious for some fresh air. Jess seemed a lot like his Jess, but the differences were staggering. Jess never made fun of Dean. Hell, they only met once. Until he figured out just what the hell was going on here, though, he would just have to handle it.

"Sam!" Dean's voice rang out through the night. Sam looked toward the restaurant hopefully.

Dean and Carmen stood at the entrance, waiting. Dean waved impatiently at him. Sam smiled at the gesture. The fact this one little thing was so familiar was reassuring. He started toward his brother when he remembered he was not alone. Sam waited for Jess to take his arm and Mom to lead the way. That was polite. Dad raised them to be polite.

Dean held the door open for Mom, then he and Carmen went through. Sam had to catch the door for Jess. She glowered at Dean's back before giving Sam a sympathetic look. He guessed it was one of the things he complained about.


	3. Chapter 3: Low Standards

**Ch3: Low Standards**

A lot of polite conversation went around the table before the food was served. They placed a plate in front of his brother that looked like an asparagus teepee. Sam choked back a laugh, knowing Dean would be leaving tonight starving. Jess and Mom went quiet just in time for Sam to hear a snippet of Dean and Carmen's private conversation.

"I have low standards," Carmen said.

Dean stared at her a moment before a soft smile broke through. He leaned forward to kiss her so tenderly, Sam could see that this girl actually meant something to his brother. It was similar to watching him with Cassie, but Carmen gave back just as much as she took. Mom was right, Carmen was good for Dean, so much better than all those one night stands.

"Sam!" Jess hissed. She motioned at Mom and then at her ring. It was time for the big announcement.

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat. "Uh, Mom, we have a little announcement for you." Mom's eyes lit up hopefully. Sam turned to Jess. "Do you want to tell them?" He hoped she would, especially since he didn't know a single detail of how he asked her or if they'd set a date or anything.

"It's your family," Jess said, shooting him a glare.

"Ooohh!!" Mom squealed, clapping her hands. "You didn't! Did you? Let me see it!"

Jess lifted up her hand with the diamond engagement ring on it. Mom laughed, jumping up to hug them both. Carmen politely congratulated both of them. Dean welcomed Jess to the family, which she accepted a little stiffly. Then Dean turned to him. It was the closest they had been to being alone. Sam searched his brother's face for any hint of the brother he knew.

"Always got to one-up me, don't you?" Dean growled at him.

Taken aback, Sam stared for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Dean shook his head. "Forget it." He turned away, moving back to Carmen's side. The closer Dean came to Carmen, the more his shoulders relaxed. Sam was not used to being the one who made his brother tense, not like this.

"Sam!" Dean's voice again from behind him, but his brother stood in front of him giving him the cold shoulder. Sam turned to look past their dinner party across the restaurant, where a very worried Dean stood. What the hell? Sam headed for the worried Dean, who was calling his name again. By the time he reached the spot, the image of Dean was gone. Like a ghost? What was going on here? How was this possible?

"Sam?" Jess tugged on his arm. "Baby? What is it?"

Sam shook his head, rejoining the party. "Nothing." He glanced back at the spot worried-Dean had been. "Maybe nothing," he whispered to himself. If this was some kind of dream, or nightmare, he needed wake up. Soon.

Back at the house, Mom thanked everyone for a wonderful birthday evening before excusing herself for bed.

"We should be going to bed, too," Jess said, tugging on Sam's arm.

Sam looked desperately to Dean. He needed to discuss this with somebody. Tonight. "Well, I don't know. Wouldn't you like to grab a beer or something?"

Dean stared at him blankly. "You're kidding."

Sam shook his head. Surely there was something of his real brother in this Dean, someplace where they still connected. He hoped so, because he needed help figuring out what was happening to him.

"Seriously?" Dean glanced back at Carmen, who shrugged and nodded. If Sam wasn't mistaken, Carmen looked hopeful. He turned to face Sam. "Well, I mean, if you don't mind going someplace kind of blue-collar. I've been kicked out of all the bars around here that you like." Carmen cleared her throat. "Oh, right." Dean snapped his fingers. "Carmen has the late shift tonight, so I'll have to drop her off first."

"I'll stay here," Jess interjected. She stood on the stairs, her head just a little higher than his. She mouthed at him 'are you sure?' He nodded emphatically. Jess shrugged. "You two have a good time, then. I'm tired." Jess gave him a lingering kiss, a reminder of what he was turning down. It wasn't like he'd try anything with his mother, of all people, in the same house. He eyed his former girlfriend, current fiancé, wondering if maybe it would be worth alienating Mom. It had been a while. Tempting, but there were pressing matters which required his immediate attention.

"Do you mind if I ride along while you drop off Carmen?" Sam asked after turning away from Jess.

Dean stared at him again, like Sam just sprouted a second head. "Whatever, dude." His brother held the door open for Carmen, giving him the strangest look as he followed. Sam made sure the front door locked behind him. Sam slid into the backseat of the Impala after Carmen got into the passenger seat. It felt weird to be in the backseat with Dean driving.

They dropped Carmen off at a small apartment complex. Dean left him in the car to walk her upstairs. Sam checked his watch after moving to the passenger seat, wondering just how long he might have to wait for his brother. It wasn't long, though Sam had been prepared for a wait. A gal that beautiful wouldn't have a hard time distracting his brother.

"That was quick," he commented as Dean sat behind the wheel.

"She has to work tonight," Dean snapped with a harsh glare.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "Dude, I didn't mean anything by it. Honest."

Dean revved his motor before putting the car in drive. "So you're really ready to go to a bar I like?"

"Sure," Sam replied with a shrug, "why not?"

Dean turned on to a major street. "Because you hate me?"

Sam started. "I don't hate you, Dean." He stared at his brother. Was this his brother? And what was that ghost version of Dean back at the restaurant? "I never hated you."

Dean snorted. "Right. Whatever."

A nasty headache threatened right behind his eyes. "Is it much further? I really need a beer." He felt the car slow. When it came to a stop, Sam realized that he had his eyes squeezed closed.

"Sam? You okay?"

Sam pried his eyes open. Dean stared at him with such a familiar concerned look Sam instantly relaxed. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I don't even know if I can explain it." He glanced out the window at a bar that was not nearly as seedy as he expected. "Let's go."

Sam took the lead, which felt odd. He chose a table near the back exit, where he could keep an eye on the whole room. He sat with his back to the wall. Dean trailed behind, looking kind of amused.

"So, college boy, what's the agenda here?" Dean asked as he took a seat. "Not really your crowd."

Sam cleared his throat, rubbing his sweaty palms nervously on his pants. Dean was right, he did stand out here in slacks instead of jeans, and the promise of a nasty headache still loomed heavily on him. "Can't a guy just have a beer with his big brother?"

Dean's eyes narrowed at him. "When you're the guy and I'm the big brother? Ah, that would be 'no.' So what's going on?"

He had to try. The only person he knew he could count on was Dean. Even after Sam left for college and didn't call his brother for two years, Dean still wanted him around, went out of his way to come see Sam at Stanford, and continues to suggest they keep hunting together. Maybe this Dean could overlook their estrangement in this version reality the way his real brother did. "Have you ever heard of a djinn?"

Dean scowled. "Dude, I don't drink the hard stuff any more. I promised Carmen." As if to make his point, a waitress appeared balancing a tray with two beers. She set one in front of Dean before motioning to Sam.

"The same," Sam ordered. With a nod, she set the second beer down for him. He waited for her to move out of earshot before trying again. "Not gin, a djinn. It's a kind of genie."

"A genie? Like Barbara Eden?" Dean asked, picking up his mug.

"Yeah, I know, she's hot." Sam rolled his eyes. "In theory, yes, like the tv show. They're supposed to have the ability to grant wishes. I think maybe one did."

"Did what?" Dean asked, one eyebrow lifting.

Sam fiddled with his mug. "I think one granted my wish."

Dean laughed, pointing a finger at him. "You don't remember asking Jess to marry you, do you?" He pounded the table, eyes alight with glee. "And now you're reduced to asking me for help, because your snobby college friends wouldn't approve." He shook his head but continued to grin widely. "Well, you can forget it. Mom would kill me."

"No, that's not it. I…" He paused. "Actually I don't remember asking Jess to marry me. To be honest," he searched his brother's eyes before continuing, "I don't remember a lot of things."

The amusement fell from his older brother's face, replaced by the concern that made him seem more like Dean should. "What are you talking about? Amnesia?"

Sam swallowed hard, unsure how to explain. "Maybe. The thing is, I have memories, but they don't seem to fit with this…reality."

"This reality?" Dean set his beer back down. "You're messing with me, aren't you? You know I like those movies and now you're messing with me. What is this? I know Jess doesn't want me in the wedding, but you're inviting us, right?"

Sam let out a frustrated grunt. "This has nothing to do with the wedding!" he snapped. "I'm talking about altering reality! In my world…" Sam stopped midsentence. Dean really looked confused and worried now. "This was a mistake," he said shaking his head, "I'm sorry. Look, I'll, uh, call a cab or something."

Sam pushed away from the table to leave. One of Dean's hands grasped his arm, holding tight. "Wait a minute. Sit down." Dean nodded at the chair still right below his ass. Sam sat. "You're not kidding, are you? You're really worried?"

Sam blew out a sigh. "No, I'm not kidding. And yes, I'm really worried."

"Okay," Dean said, releasing his arm. "So what wish did it grant? This Barbara Eden-type genie."

Sam felt embarrassed to admit it out loud. "To be normal," he whispered.

"What was that?" Dean asked. "What was your wish?" He leaned forward to hear Sam over the bar noises.

Sam's cheeks burned as he repeated, "To be normal."

Dean laughed at him. "Sam, you're the most normal person I know."

Sam nodded at his brother. "Sure. Here." He gestured around him. "But this is only the second time I can remember coming to Lawrence."

His brother's eyebrows drew together. "Sam, you grew up here. You went to high school just up the road."

Sam shook his head. "I went to five different high schools. We grew up on the road, living out of crappy motels and the Impala."

Dean shook his head. "You are messing with me."

Sam drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes landed on the dart boards on the far wall. "What if I can prove it to you?"

"Okay." Dean shrugged, glancing around. "How?"

Sam grabbed his beer. "Follow me, big brother." He headed for the darts. Two guys were already over there, playing for about twenty bucks a game. Sam made the same bet with Dean. Dean was pretty good, not as good as he should have been, but he clearly spent a lot of time in bars playing darts. Sam barely lost. When he did, he whispered to Dean to announce that his brother didn't want another game.

"Come on, you gotta give me a shot at winning my money back," Sam whined plaintively.

"I'll give you a game," one of the other guys playing darts offered. "Same bet?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, since he's being a spoilsport, sure."

The next game Sam won on what appeared to be a lucky break. The guy insisted on playing again, double or nothing. Sam took him up on it, winning by a little more than a lucky break this time.

"Thanks for the game," Sam said as he took his winnings. "Come on," he told Dean, "I'll buy you a beer."

Dean followed slowly, to a booth on the back wall. "What the hell was that?" Dean asked once they sat down. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you just hustled that guy."

"I did." Sam slapped a twenty down on the table.

"You did what?" Dean asked. Man, he looked so worried now Sam figured their two worlds had to be blending.

"I hustled him. Do me a favor and keep an eye out. If the guy figures it out, he might try to jump us when we leave." Sam sipped his fresh beer.

"Who are you and what did you do to my brother?" Dean asked seriously.

Sam shook his head. "I have no idea. I just woke up in this reality yesterday."

"Yesterday," Dean repeated. "And before that? You just moved around all the time? No law school?"

Sam cleared his throat before answering. "I didn't get the chance to go to law school."

"Why not? You not as smart in this other reality?" Dean grinned at that. "If that's the case, I might keep you around."

"Ha – ha." Sam rolled his eyes. "No, it's because…" He found he did not want to admit what happened to Jess, and he realized Dean was probably just humoring him. "It's because you and I have been on a road trip."

"You and me?" Dean downed about half his beer. "Now I know you're drunk. If we were in the same car together for more than twenty minutes we'd kill each other."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Now you're talking about me and Dad, not you and me."

Dean's beer froze in midair before returning it to the table with a clunk. Amber liquid sloshed over the top, spilling down the side and over Dean's hand. "Excuse me? Since when did the perfect son not get along with Dad?"

Sam fiddled with his mug. "I was never Dad's perfect son." He looked right in Dean's eyes. "That was you, and you and I fought about it until the day he died."

"Dad…" Dean looked away, breathing deep. "I never told him…"

"Me either," Sam said gently. He checked his watch. It was nearly two in the morning, but he didn't want to leave.

Dean checked his watch too. "We should go or Mom will bitch me out for keeping you out late."

Sam shrugged, taking another long pull on his beer. "I'm not ready. I'll tell her it was my fault."

Dean gave him another of those strange looks. "If you tell her any of this, you're going to find yourself in the psych ward. As it is, I'm going to talk to Carmen when she gets home. She knows all the good doctors up at the hospital."

"I'm not sick, Dean," Sam argued. "I'm just from a different reality. Where you and I get along."

"Yeah, that sounds sane." Dean jerked his head toward the exit. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Look, should I have been able to hustle those guys at darts? Seriously, Dean, I'm not from here," Sam insisted. Movement from one of the other booths caught his attention. As Dean squirmed for an answer, one which probably would not involve science fiction, Sam recognized the leader of the group headed their way. It was the guy he took at darts. Damn. He made a hissing noise to get Dean's attention and nodded at the four guys approaching the table.

"Oh, that's just great." Dean turned to glare at him. "Did I mention I also promised Carmen I wouldn't fight any more?"

"Might not have much of a choice," Sam muttered. He polished off his beer, worried it might not survive the next five minutes.

When the group of men stopped at their table, Dean was still glaring at him. Sam kicked his brother in the shin under the table. "Hey, man," Sam said with a smile, "I don't really want another game."

The guy he hustled turned to glare at Dean. "Winchester, right? I've heard stories about you. You set me up, didn't you?"

Dean shot Sam a hard look before turning back to the jerk. "Look, I had no idea my wimpy law school brother could play darts, okay?" Dean pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "What did you win, Sam? Forty?" He pulled a couple of twenties out.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean!" Sam snapped as he jumped to his feet. He shoved Dean's wallet with one hand. "Put that away." Sam turned his attention to the jerk. "If you can't handle losing a little cash, then you shouldn't play for money, asshole."

The only thing that saved him from either a fat lip or busted nose was Dad's training. Sam threw a right cross that should have broken something, but he was more out of shape than he thought and it just snapped the guy's head to the side. Somebody grabbed his right arm then, but Sam was in fighting mode. He dropped the next two to get in his space and was prepared to take out the fourth when he realized it was Dean standing in front of him. Sam pulled that punch barely in time, just missing his brother's jaw which flopped wide open.

His eyes searched for the fourth guy, but Dean dragged him out of the bar. "There was one more," he insisted, squirming in his brother's grip.

"Yeah, that one took off the second you knocked the first guy out. Guess they thought you would be…well…the way you usually are," Dean said as he was forced outside.

Sam looked at his brother in surprise. "So you really didn't get into the fight? You just let me handle it?"

"I promised Carmen," Dean repeated. Sam noticed Dean did not turn him loose until they were in the parking lot. When they reached the car, Dean spun him around. "Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?" he demanded.

"Dad," Sam said simply. "Same as you."

Dean shook his head. "Dad never taught me to fight. When did you learn?"

"On the road, growing up," Sam replied shrugging. "Honestly, you were always better at it than I was." He tried to smile at his brother. "We used to spar all the time."

Dean prodded his chest with one finger. "You're delusional." A second Dean appeared in the distance, pacing. "Get in the car!"

Sam watched until the pacing Dean disappeared. Again. Maybe he was delusional. As Sam slipped into the passenger seat, he had an idea about connecting his brother. "Dean? Where would I learn to hustle darts, or pool, or fight?"

Dean turned sharply in the driver's seat. "You hustle pool, too? Oh God, I am so screwed."

"Why would you be screwed?" Sam stared at this strange version of his brother.

"Why?" Both of Dean's eyebrows shot up so far, Sam was afraid they might tangle with his brother's hairline. "Because, somehow, this is going to be my fault! That's why!" He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

As he reached for the radio, Dean hesitated. "Aren't you going to start complaining about my choice of music?"

Sam shook his head, suppressing a grin. This just might work. "Driver picks the music, passenger shuts his cakehole."

Dean's eyes widened comically big. "How the hell did you get drunk off of just a couple of beers?"

"I'm not drunk," Sam insisted. "I'm not delusional, and I am not spending the night at Mom's."

"So where are you planning to stay the night?" Dean demanded.

"Your place." Sam cut his eyes to the side just in time to catch the utter bewilderment on Dean's face. "Please?"

Dean turned sideways in the seat to face him. "You're messing with me, right?" A smile snaked its way across Dean's face. "Oh, I get it. Trying to teach me a lesson or something. Okay, I give." He spread his hands wide. "What? What do I need to learn?"

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. With the way his luck was running, it was the ghost image of Dean he really needed to connect with. Great. Just freaking perfect.

"Just take me back to the house," he muttered, slouching down in defeat. He really thought that would work. It would have worked with his real brother, not this cheap copy. He stared out the window the whole drive, scenery flashing past without making any impression.

The car was stopped for several minutes before Sam realized they weren't moving. He did not want to go into the house, but he guessed he really didn't have much choice.

"Sam?"

He turned slowly to look at Dean. Dean actually looked a little worried. Sure, now the jerk started to get it.

"Hey, man." Dean reached over tentatively to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You all right? You're not getting sick, are you?"

Sam shook off the hand as he reached to open the door. "Nah." He paused with the door open. Feeling guilty to worry his brother, even if it was a strange, distant version, Sam looked back over his shoulder. "You're right, I was messing with you. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He let the car door slam closed. "Night, Dean!" Sam called out without turning around as he headed to the house.

One of the keys in his pocket fit the front door. How convenient. Sam let himself in quietly, locking it behind him. He waited after closing the door. It was almost half a minute before he heard the sound of the Impala driving off. Huh. Maybe there was something of the real Dean in that man after all.

Sam stood at the foot of the stair, not moving. He couldn't quite bring himself to go upstairs. The last thing he wanted to do right now was crawl in bed beside Jess. She looked, sounded, felt, and even smelled like his Jess. That brought back too many intense memories and emotions, most of which Sam thought he was over. Then he sat next to her on a plane for three hours. It was too hard to go up there, he couldn't trust himself.

He had slept on motel beds less comfortable than the couch, even if he had to scrunch up his body to fit. Sleep was a long time coming as his mind churned through various scenarios of how exactly he could connect with his brother, even this altered version, and if he should.


	4. Chapter 4: Lots to Learn

CH 4: Lots To Learn

"Sam? Sam!"

The voice was not familiar but he recognized the tone. It was The Tone Of Disapproval. At least now he knew where it came from. Sam cracked one eye open. Mom stood over him, hands on her hips.

"What are you doing down here, young man?" She motioned upstairs. "After all that fuss you made last time about sharing a bedroom with your girlfriend and now that you're engaged, I find you sleeping on the couch?" Mom frowned, the corners of her mouth dipping down. Then one side quirked. "Your brother kept you out too late, didn't he? You didn't want to wake anyone?"

Sam gaped at her. Was she really offering him an out, a perfectly legitimate excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior? Did she know? "Maybe," he replied with a nod. When he noticed some irritation creep into her face, Sam added hastily, "But it wasn't Dean's idea. He didn't even want to go out with me, I kind of made him."

Mom shook her head and sighed. "Sam, you two may never get along, but are you already trying to cut him completely out of the wedding?"

"No." Sam glared at her as he sat up. "Why the hell would I do that?"

The slap on the side of his head was unexpected. He looked at her in disbelief as he rubbed the spot. It didn't hurt, exactly, but the skin above his left ear stung a bit. She shook a finger in his face. "You know I don't allow that kind of language, Samuel."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his mouth and brain on automatic. Was this how Dean felt when they went to see Missouri? How many times did she threaten him with a wooden spoon?

"Why doesn't anyone call me Sammy?" The question hung in the air. For a moment, Sam wondered if he had even spoken it out loud. Time in the room seemed to have frozen.

"Sam?" Jess' voice called from upstairs. "Sam!"

He waited patiently. Mom glanced towards the bedrooms before looking at him. "You should go see what your fiancé wants."

Sam had no intention of moving without some kind of answer. "Well?"

Mom's head tilted to one side and her brow furrowed, the expression so familiar it made Sam homesick. "Because Sammy is a chubby twelve year old. Now go check on Jess." She snapped her fingers at him and made an impatient motion. Thank God Dean didn't pick that one up. Sam would have strangled him years ago.

A knock sounded at the door as Sam stood. Mom hurried off, muttering something about salespeople who don't understand people need time to get dressed in the morning. He mounted the stairs with trepidation, unsure what to expect at the top.

"Morning, Mom!"

Dean's voice froze Sam in his tracks. "Thank God," he muttered, turning around to head back to the door.

Somebody stood just behind Dean at the door.

"I brought somebody by to meet Sam." Mom stood in the doorway, not saying anything. "Mom? Can we come in?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course. Come in." She stood aside. "And who is your friend, Dean?"

"Oh, right. This is George. He, uh, works with Carmen." Dean smiled broadly and Sam knew he was holding back. "There he is! Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Dean." Sam headed their way. He stopped right in front of the newcomer. "I'm Sam. Dean's my big brother." The words flowed as easily from his lips as ever.

George smiled as he shook Sam's hand. "George. Good to meet you, Sam."

"So you work at the hospital?" Sam asked, shooting Dean a look that could not possibly be misinterpreted.

"Yes. Carmen is an absolute wonder. That hospital would fall apart without her." Dean beamed at the comment. Oh brother, what was this guy? A professional ass-kisser?

Mom laughed. "Well, have a seat, George. Tell me, what brings you boys here? So early?"

"Sorry about that, Mom, but George just came off a late shift. I wanted him to meet Sam before he crashed." Dean got a stricken look on his face, like he just said the wrong thing. "I-I mean before George went home and went to bed. You know, because he just worked a long shift."

"Yes, dear," Mom crooned gently, stroking Dean's cheek briefly, "I got it. Relax." She smiled at him and Sam watched Dean's shoulders ease instantly. So he obeyed Mom in this reality. That was good to know.

"Coffee? I have a fresh pot on. Dean, I know you want some. Sam? George?" Mom waited expectantly.

"Sure," Sam answered, eyes still pinned to Dean. Big brother looked a little guilty.

"I'd love some, Mrs. Winchester," George replied with a smile. George watched Mom leave the room before his eyes settled back on Sam. "So. Sam. I understand you're in law school. How is that going?"

Sam shrugged. "Okay. I guess." Honestly, he had no idea how it was going, only that he apparently studied a lot.

"You guess?" George asked, motioning for Sam to sit on the sofa.

"Sam? Are those the same clothes you were wearing last night?" Dean asked, deep hazel green eyes studying him intently. Sam relaxed under the familiar visual scouring.

"Yeah. I haven't been upstairs to change yet," he admitted.

"Why not?" George asked, glancing around the room. "Did you sleep downstairs?"

Sam crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "What is this?" he demanded. "What kind of doctor are you?"

"Relax Sam," Dean hissed, waving his hands for Sam to lower his voice. "George's specialty is stress."

Sam stared first at his brother then at George. Knowing Dean, though he didn't really know this version very well, George was some kind of psychiatrist. "You told him how much of what I said last night?"

A smile creased George's not unkind face. "Sam, all Dean told me was that you're in law school and just got engaged. He seemed concerned you might be suffering from extreme stress, since you seemed rather out of character last night."

"Sam!" Jess bellowed from upstairs.

"Out of character how?" Sam demanded, ignoring the beloved voice.

"Sam! Where are you?"

"Uh, Sam?" Dean asked gently.

"What?" Sam did not take his eyes off of George. He wanted a freaking answer.

"Jess?" Dean suggested.

"I want to know exactly what my brother told you about last night," Sam stated firmly.

Dean stalked to the foot of the stairs motioning up, clearly telling Sam to get off his ass and answer Jess. Sam had no intention of doing that before he had a frigging answer.

Jess appeared on the landing, a thick robe wrapped around her. "Sam!" she shouted and did not look pleased. He might have laughed at the totally pissed off expression on her face but he was kind of in the middle of something. Besides, the more he learned about this 'reality' the more convinced he was becoming it wasn't real. "Couldn't you hear me?"

"In a minute," he snapped, waving her off. "I'm busy." Sam redirected his attention to George. "What exactly did Dean say about me?"

George glanced over at Dean's shocked expression before answering, "That you seemed out of character. You two have never gotten along, yet last night you insisted on going out, just the two of you, and treated him like you valued his company. And now I just watched you shut down you fiancé because you were more worried about what Dean might or might not have said. Were you afraid he betrayed your confidence? Because I can assure you, Dean told me nothing other than he was concerned about your behavior."

"Sam?" Jess' voice was a little softer and more yielding this time.

Sam glared upstairs. "What?"

"Have you, uh, seen my hairdryer? I can't find it," she said in a voice which barely carried downstairs.

"No idea. Anything else?" he asked, desperately attempting to reign in his frustration.

"Maybe you could help me look?" she asked with the sweet expression he always had trouble saying no to.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. Alone with Jess in a bedroom? "I wouldn't be any help. Give me a few minutes, Jess. I'm talking to one of Dean's friends."

The sweet expression gave way to confusion as she turned around. He hoped next time she came out she would be fully clothed. Sam was having trouble keeping his imagination in check as it was.

"Here we are." Mom's voice rang out as Jess turned around upstairs. Sam faced to Mom, who carried a tray with four steaming mugs of coffee.

"I didn't know how you took it, George," she said as she set her tray down on the coffee table. "Black all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," George said politely as he accepted a mug.

"Dean," she said, handing over a similar mug full of dark liquid. "Sam." She handed Sam a mug, also steaming, but it contained a lighter colored fluid and smelled odd.

Sam sipped it experimentally. After months on the road with a big brother who considered anything other than a little sugar in coffee to be wimpy, Sam had grown accustomed to the taste of straight black coffee. This stuff had – what was that? - cinnamon?? Sugar, cream and cinnamon flavored coffee, if it was indeed coffee and not some freaky hybrid, spewed from his mouth all over Mom's coffee table and floor.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded, wiping nasty residue off his chin. "I thought we were having coffee?"

Mom stood gaping at him while Dean had this horror-struck expression. Shit. He really screwed up, but the bad part was, Sam didn't understand how or why their reaction would be this severe. Surely he didn't like crappy coffee like that in this reality? Oh, God, strike him down now if that were the case.

Sam set his mug on the splattered coffee table. "I'll get something to clean this up," he muttered as he headed for the kitchen. He had to search through about four drawers before he found the kitchen towels, there was no telling if Mom used paper towels or where they might be stored. After snagging several towels, he turned around. Dean stood blocking the kitchen doorway.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shrugged as he attempted to push by. Dean braced an arm against the doorframe, blocking him.

"Sam, I think you ought to tell me." Dean's face was open and honest. Definitely not his brother. His last hope was squashed in that instant.

"Move," Sam said simply, making eye contact with this impostor and not bothering to hide his frustration over his situation. "Or be moved."

Dean's arm dropped slowly from the doorframe, allowing Sam passage into the den full of strangers. Sam walked back into tense silence. He set about cleaning up the mess he made, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

He continued to blot at the spots on the carpet for a long while, hearing voices whisper in the background but they were too low for him to make anything out. When Sam finally decided he had done all he could for the carpet, short of going out and renting a steam cleaner, he looked up to see what else he needed to contend with. Jess sat stiffly in a chair facing him. Great. This day just got better and better.

"Where's Dean?" he asked, giving voice to his first thought. Sam didn't miss the flash of hurt on her face.

"He left with his friend," she said simply. "Who you have an appointment with after lunch today."

Sam winced, taking a seat in another chair. "So what is he? Psychiatrist?"

Jess gave him a tense nod. "Sam..." her voice broke on the single syllable. She took a deep breath before trying again. "Sam. If you're not ready to get married, it's okay. I understand. We can wait."

Sam groaned, tossing the coffee stained towel on the now clean table. "Jess, it's not you. I swear. You're the one good thing in all this." He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of her gaze heavy on him. "I wish I could just keep you and change everything else back."

Jess looked like she might want to come closer, the way she shifted in her chair, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not that Sam blamed her, they were basically strangers, only up until a few minutes ago he was the only one who knew. Now everyone seemed to be in on the secret. He needed to kill Dean.

"I don't understand, Sam," she said in a plaintive voice. "Can you explain it to me?"

Sam shook his head. He never explained hunting to her, how could he possibly broach the subject of altered realities or genies and wishes granted? "No," he told her softly. "I don't think so."

Some of the old irritated, mad Jess crept in past the worry and concern. "But you could tell Dean?"

"Don't start," he snapped, more forcefully than he intended. Sam held up both hands, more to stop himself than Jess. "Look, obviously that was a mistake. I promise, I'm working on it. I'll figure it out, and then everything will be fine. Okay?" He searched for the trust they once had in her deep blue eyes. "Can I do that? I just need a little time to work on it. Please."

"One condition," she said. "You keep me in the loop, not Dean."

Sam chewed his lower lip, considering it. This Dean was not his brother, acted almost nothing like him, but still...he was the closest Sam had for a brother at the moment.

"Sorry, Jess," he said slowly. "I'm not sure I can promise that."

She swallowed hard before standing. Her hips swayed gently as she approached him. "In that case, my condition is you have to see that doctor, even though Dean found him."

"Okay, baby," he replied, the familiarity slipping out past his filters, past his defenses. Jess lit up, leaning over to kiss him. Sam returned the kiss like a dehydrated man sucking up a glass of water, God him help.

"Well, that's more like it!" Mom had terrible timing. How could anyone live with a mother like this? "Breakfast?"

He really had to get out of this house.


	5. Chapter 5:Truth and Consequences

Okay all you awesome people following this, here's the new chapter, as promised!! (See what happens when I write ahead of time and just post??)

**Ch5: Truth and Consequences**

Sam drove the rental methodically up and down the neighborhood streets, memorizing areas he was supposed to know. Next stop would be Lawrence College, where he had planned to do some research. His djinn research had not indicated that they actually could grant wishes, there was no evidence of wishes being granted, but the fact it was the myth meant it had to come from someplace.

On his way to Lawrence College, Sam spotted the high school. He pulled into the parking lot to study it for a minute. With a sigh of resignation, Sam realized he would never be able to pull this off. There was just too much he was missing, plus Dean was already on to him. He admitted everything to his big brother, thinking he had an ally there. Ha. He definitely preferred an emotionally scarred, overburdened Dean any day.

Sam headed for the college and its library. He hoped they had a good section on mythology. As he pulled up his cell went off. Caller id said it was Dean calling. Great.

"Now what?" Sam asked when he answered. "Rubber room with my name on it?" He didn't bother to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"Uh, well, I just wanted to be sure you'd make your appointment with George. Need a lift?"God, he sounded so much like Dean. Well, he was Dean, only he wasn't. The unmistakable concern in the voice made Sam so damned homesick, he remembered the real reason he never called Dean when he was in school.

"No." Sam tried to keep his anger going. "I have a rental car, since no one could be bothered to pick us up at the airport."

"Dude, you know how confused Mom gets driving around the airport," Dean said.

He didn't have to try to keep his anger going now. "Who said anything about Mom!" Sam pulled the phone away from his ear to jab the off button. Oh, he missed the days when you could slam down the receiver, but then he wouldn't be on the phone in the car either. Sam tossed his phone on the seat, where it started ringing again. He left it there to head into the library.

The library was a bust. He didn't find anything new, just the same stuff he'd already researched. Frustrated, Sam stared blankly at the far wall of books. Ghost-Dean appeared again, his features hard and set the way he always looked when really worried. He headed for Ghost-Dean, hoping for some answers this time, but Sam was distracted by a girl slamming her books closed.

Mascara ran in dark rivers down her face, framing her eyes like a racoon. "I can't," she said hysterically, "not today. I just can't."

"Melissa!" the young man sitting next to her called as he gathered up his books and hers. The young woman ran from the library without looking back.

Concerned, Sam helped the young man gather up the girl's things. "Is she all right? What's wrong with today?"

The young man sighed. "Remember the TWA flight that crashed, forty minutes after take-off? It was one year ago today. Her mother was on it." He took the papers Sam had gathered from him. "Thanks. She'll be okay, it's just a bad day."

Stunned, Sam stared at the young man's retreating back. No one saved the TWA flight from the demon. Why didn't he think of this? Without Dad, and especially Dean, out there saving people...

How many people did they save while Sam was off in college, playing normal? How many people had he seen his brother save in the past year? Were they all dead? Using the library internet connection, Sam researched all of their cases since Stanford from memory. He started with the TWA flight, the memory of his frightened brother boarding the plane despite his fear of flying. Sam tried to put off the feelings of homesickness as he started a fresh search. The scarecrow he had more trouble with, since it only fed once a year, but it did appear to still be in operation since the little town was still prosperous. Roy LeGrange was still healing people while others around him died mysteriously. The haunted lake drowned all of the family of the boys who killed the boy haunting it. The shtriga killed ten children in a small town.

Yes, they were all dead. It was as if no other hunters picked up their cases, without Dean there was no one to take up the slack. How many times had he pushed for Dean to pursue normal, only for his suggestions to be rejected out of hand? How many people would have died if he had ever succeeded? How many people he didn't know about died because he got his wish?

Shaken, Sam headed out of the library. When he sat back down in the car, he checked his phone. Five missed calls from Dean, two from Mom and six from Jess. He couldn't face Dean right now, not even an altered version, so Jess won. Sam called her back.

"Sam," she really sounded irritated, "where the hell are you and why weren't you answering your phone?"

"Sorry, Jess," he replied. "I kind of got into it on the phone with Dean, so I left my phone in the car."

"Where are you?" she demanded.

"At the college. I was doing some research," he said truthfully.

He heard her blow out a breath. "Right. I should have known. Well, your mother wants to be sure you make that appointment today, and so do I. Why don't you swing by here and pick me up so I can go with you?"

Sam doubted it was really a request. "You want to go?"

"Yes, Sam," she said and he could hear how she was trying not to sound as irritated as she had to be. "I want to go. I'm worried about you, baby." Now that sounded like hearts and flowers and spring picnics, the way she said 'baby.' Sam melted. He had forgotten just how much he loved her, how much he missed her.

"Okay. I can be there in ten minutes," he promised. "Do we have time to go someplace for lunch first?"

Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe this was a second chance, an opportunity to get everything he wanted. He could have Jess and school and his family; though why he might want Mom, a complete stranger, over Dad was really beyond him. All he needed to make things right was to connect with Dean. And maybe he could still find a way of destroying the things he and Dean had hunted. Bobby probably existed in this reality, and might even listen to him if he could give the man some proof. Between Bobby, and maybe even Ellen, Sam could clue in the hunters out there about the things he and Dean didn't hunt here. This was assuming there were other hunters in this reality. Sam pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

"Sure," she said in a chipper voice. "I'll be outside waiting when you get here."

"Okay, baby." Sam disconnected the call so he could concentrate on the neighborhood streets. After his exploring this morning, it was easier to drive back to Mom's house.

Jess stood out by the street in jeans that hugged her hips just the right way and a blouse which left barely enough to the imagination to be really sexy. Yeah, he still had it bad. She climbed into the passenger seat of the rental, giving him a blazing smile as he pulled away from the curb.

"So what do you feel like?" Sam asked. "I spotted a burger joint a few blocks from here."

She wrinkled her nose in the cute way she had. "Not Mel's? You know I hate that place. Is there a decent sushi place? Wait. Kansas. Sushi. Probably not a good idea. Okay, how about that Italian place on Main?"

Sam nodded, figuring it couldn't be too difficult to spot a nameless Italian restaurant on Main Street. When his cell went off, again, Jess jumped. It was in the passenger floorboard next to her foot. She picked it up, making a disgusted face.

"Dean again?" Sam asked, scanning the other side of the road for Jess' restaurant. "Just ignore it."

"Always do," she said lightly, dropping his phone like it was diseased. "What was it this time? Does he want to borrow money again?"

Sam shook his head. She wouldn't understand.

"Crude joke?" she asked. "He's been making fun of you for being in law school," she guessed.

"Stop it," he told her without any heat in his words. "Is this it?" Sam pointed out the window.

"Uh, yeah." Jess gave him a quizzical look. "Sam, we've been here like a hundred times. What do you mean, is this it?"

"Oh, well," Sam paused, his mind racing for a suitable excuse, "I wasn't sure you meant here or the other place." That sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

"What other place?" Jess demanded. "Sam, there's only one Italian place in this whole town."

Whoops. "Right. I was thinking of back at school. Let's go." Sam jumped out of the car before she had a chance to think of anything else wrong with him. Even Sam had to admit there was something wrong with him when he missed his old, freaky, abnormal, demon-riddled life.

Somehow Sam managed to get through lunch without any more major mishaps, but Jess had the 'something is up' look on her face. She had that expression permanently plastered on her face the two weeks before her surprise party. It was difficult getting anything past Jess.

Now they sat in George's waiting room. He had a real office and waiting room, just like a legitimate psychiatrist. Maybe this version of Dean wasn't the total loser Jess made him out to be. Sam didn't know what to think any more, or what he hoped for. All he knew for sure was the man who looked and sounded like his brother wasn't.

Jess held his hand and beamed with this fake smile which made Sam's insides twist. They were early, his appointment wasn't for another fifteen minutes. The door to the waiting room opened and Dean walked in. He wore clean jeans and t-shirt, but there was a smear of grease along his jaw which proved he simply changed clothes at work before heading over. At work. Dean had a freaking job at a garage. Well, after the miracle he performed on the wrecked Impala, any garage owner ought to offer up his right arm to get Dean to work for him. No, that was his brother, not the man standing nervously in front of him.

This Dean took a seat off to the side with Jess glowering at him the entire time. He picked up a golfing magazine and flipped through it for several minutes before making a face. Finally he turned back to the cover and rolled his eyes before tossing it aside. Sam couldn't help his snigger.

"What? No good tips for your backswing?" he teased, grinning.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know damn well I don't play golf."

"Golf is for spoiled, rich wimps," they said together.

Dean's head jerked back as he stared at Sam. His brow furrowed. "Yeah. How'd you know that?"

"The same way I know when to shut my cakehole," Sam replied, his anger still not abated. To prove his point, Sam sat back and refused to even make eye contact until George came out to get him.

"Just Sam," George told Jess and Dean. "I'll ask you two to come in a little later. And I'd like to go ahead and thank both of you for coming. We won't be too long."

Sam followed George into the empty office. He took a seat on the short sofa while George sat in a cushioned chair.

"You asked them both to come?" Sam asked before George had a chance to start. "Where's Mom?" He heard the sarcastic tone too late to do anything about it.

George smiled at him, settling a notepad on his leg. "Yes, I asked them both to come. They're the ones who have noticed your uncharacteristic behavior. Your mother claims everyone is overreacting. The only thing she's worried about is the fact you don't seem to know where anything is in your hometown."

"So you're saying..." Sam had no idea what that meant.

"Your mother refused to come," George replied with a shrug. "But she did think you should. Some people have an irrational fear of therapy. I'm really just here to listen."

Sam eyed George. "Then what's the point?"

George smiled at him. "Okay, maybe I do a little more than listen. Tell me, what is law school like? How stressful is it?"

"I study all the time," Sam replied, parroting what he heard from Jess. "And Jess and I just announced our engagement."

"Really? Before or after Dean and Carmen announced they moved in together?" George asked, leaning forward.

"They moved in together?" Sam remembered Dean saying something about one-upping him. "That's what he meant," Sam mumbled.

"Didn't they say anything? Carmen told me Dean had been planning their announcement for weeks, but I'm pretty sure your mother already knows, she's just pretending not to until they tell her." George scribbled on his notepad.

"No, they didn't say anything," Sam replied with a sigh. "I guess we stole their thunder by announcing our engagement. I wondered why Dean seemed upset." Sam spread his hands in supplication. "But it wasn't like I knew!"

"Is that why you asked him out for a beer?" George asked, leaning forward in interest. "Because he seemed upset?"

"Well...yeah." Sam shrugged, glancing toward the window. There wasn't much view with the blinds tilted nearly closed. Some sunlight illuminated the room, but passersby were merely dark forms without distinction, kind of like reverse ghosts.

"Was that wrong?" Sam asked, dragging his eyes back to the psychologist.

"No. Not wrong." George shrugged. "But I've known Dean for nearly a year now, since he started dating Carmen. I never knew he had a brother before this morning." He leaned back in his chair. "Care to explain that?"

Sam glared at the doctor. "You'd have to ask Dean."

"Actually I did. Would you like to hear what he said?" George asked. He no longer sounded casual.

"Not really," Sam mumbled, slouching down in his chair.

"He said," George stressed that part, "that you two only speak on holidays, and you've never gotten along." Sam rolled his eyes. "What do you have to say to that, Sam?"

Sam shrugged and remained silent because, really, what could he say? It was undoubtedly true in this reality. The uncomfortable silence stretched too long, beyond Sam's endurance.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his slacks and it felt strange. Maybe he could stop off to buy some jeans on the way back to Mom's house.

"Just because it's true," Sam reasoned, "doesn't mean it should be that way." He met George's gaze then.

George actually looked quite interested for a moment, jotting something down in that notebook. "Good point," he said, still scribbling away.

Sam waited for George to finish. When George looked up, he glanced at the small clock on a low table right beside him. "I think it's time we invite someone in. Who should it be? Dean or – uh?" he flipped through his notes again.

"Jessica," Sam supplied the name. "Bring her in."

"All right." George stood to open the door. He called Jessica in. Through the open doorway Sam watched Jess give Dean a nasty triumphant sneer before heading his way. He could not imagine the real Jess, his Jess, behaving like that.

Jess sat so close, Sam wondered if she was trying to share clothes. "What is it, doctor?" she asked. "What's wrong with Sam?"

George gave her a very kind, warm smile. "I wouldn't say anything is 'wrong' with Sam. Would you?"

"Well..." Jess squirmed next to Sam on the sofa. "He doesn't seem to remember where anything in Lawrence is, even his mother has been commenting about it. And..."

"And?" George prompted. "What else, Jessica?"

Jess bit her bottom lip, eyes cutting to the side to look at Sam. "Go ahead," Sam told her, having a pretty good idea what she intended to complain about.

"See, Jessica?" George said as he waved a hand at Sam. "It's fine. You're free to speak your mind here. How else has Sam acted out of the norm lately?"

Jess ran a hand over his leg to squeeze his knee. "He's been upset that Dean isn't a better brother." She shrugged. "I keep telling him he shouldn't be surprised, or upset. I mean, I expect it." Jess shrugged again.

"All right." George gave a nod as he stood. "Jessica, I'll ask you to step into the waiting room while we talk to Dean. He seems to be at the center of this."

Jess kissed Sam on the cheek before she left. She paused in the doorway to mouth 'love you'. Sam grinned back. Yeah he liked the attention from her. So what? Actually, he was entitled. After all the absolute horrible crap he had been through the past eight months, from Jess dying to Dean almost dying – twice – he deserved a little happiness like this, though it came with a high price.

Dean looked extremely uncomfortable as he stepped into the room. George closed the door behind him.

"Uh, hey, Sam." Dean cleared his throat, taking a seat in the chair opposite George's. His knee bounced gently as his heel tapped nervously. His brother undoubtedly thought this was all his fault, and he was right. For a change.

Even so, he couldn't face that lost and guilty expression. Sam turned to face the window so he wouldn't have to watch.

"George?" Sam detected the confidence forced into his brother's voice. "What's the verdict? Law school getting the best of my little brother?" He chuckled but Sam heard it for what it was, a cover for his insecurities.

"You wish," Sam hissed under his breath. Now he did look over and was not disappointed in what he saw. Dean sat there with that cocky smile, radiating confidence, hiding how worthless he really felt. Sam nearly laughed in relief at the sight. Finally! This man actually resembled his brother!

Dean's smile dropped and he shot Sam a nasty look, which Sam returned in kind. The glares and cutting looks that followed were straight out of their shared childhood. It was the most comfortable Sam felt since waking up in his law school apartment. Utterly relieved, Sam let loose a light laugh as Dean shot him another nasty look.

Dean's glare shifted into confusion as Sam laughed again. "Oh, man," Sam breathed, "I missed that."

Dean gave Sam an utterly lost look. "You missed us being nasty to each other? Dude, I'm glad you're seeing George." Dean shook his head at the doctor. "You have really got your work cut out for you. Later."

Dean was halfway out of his seat when the anger boiled up. "Sit down," Sam ordered, sounding like Dad even to his own ears. "Since when does Dean Winchester run away? From anything?" Sam demanded. Dean landed back in the chair.

"Uh..." Dean shrugged, eyes searching Sam's. "According to you and Mom **and** Dad, since always." He frowned at Sam. "Since when have you expected more?"

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself tight. "Since always," he spat, throwing Dean's words back at him.

George held both hands up, effectively silencing them. "All right. Clearly we are now at the root of the problem. Sam," he turned his attention on Sam alone, "can you tell me when exactly you began to expect more of Dean?"

Sam shook his head. "I told you, since always." He shot a hard look at his brother. Well, at his almost-brother.

Dean kind of looked guilty as he spread his hands wide. "Honest, George, I have no idea what he's talking about. When we were kids, Sam tattled on me constantly. Once when I tried to show him this cool jump trick on his bike, he pretended to be really interested and then ran straight to Mom, claiming I was trying to get him killed. I was grounded for a month."

Sam was really sick and tired of being blamed for this other Sam being an ass. "I didn't do that," he muttered.

"No?" George asked, making another note in that damned notebook. "Sam, tell me one of your favorite childhood memories."

Sam shot a glare at Dean. "Don't tell me that was one of your favorite memories?"

"Sam?" George interrupted. "I asked about your memories, not Dean's. I'm making a point here."

"What point?" Sam demanded.

"After you tell me your favorite memory," he said calmly. "Come on, Sam. One good memory." George gave him an encouraging smile.

Dean's steady gaze and concerned expression urged Sam to comply. "Fine," he huffed. Most of Sam's childhood memories were pretty crappy, admittedly, but there were a few good times. All of the good times centered on Dean.

"One time when Dean and I were at this motel," he started, immediately interrupted by George.

"Childhood, Sam," George said gently. "You're supposed to tell us about your favorite childhood memory."

"I will if you shut up and listen," Sam replied. George's eyes widened and Dean's mouth dropped open a little. "Well?"

George nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Thank you," he snapped, leaning back in his chair. "As I was saying, Dean and I were at some motel. I was eight and it was Dean's twelfth birthday. Dad forgot, as usual," Sam snorted. He froze then, expecting Dean to berate him for saying it. Dean watched with a curious expression instead. "Anyway, Dean swiped some cake from a restaurant and I was in charge of all the decorations." Sam grinned at the thought. "Black paper chains all over the room. I mean, we spent about four hours putting those things together while we watched whatever movie was on television that Dean could stand." He laughed. "When it was time for cake, I brought it out with one of those big tapered candles, the kind people use on restaurant tables, stuck right in the center. We sung happy birthday, Dean blew out his candle, and we ate cake for dinner."

"No punch?" Dean asked in an odd voice.

Sam brought the image of that birthday to mind. "Soda," he replied. "You even got my favorite for me and I didn't ask if you paid for it or stole it, because it was your birthday."

"George. Get out," Dean said in a soft voice.

"Now Dean, I'd like to hear your..."

"Get. Out." Dean turned his head to glare at George. "I'm paying for this, so you'll do what I say. Get the hell out." Ah, finally, a familiar voice.

George hurried out of the room. Dean turned to stare at Sam again.

"Who are you?" he demanded in the same soft voice he used to tell George to leave. Sam did not really care for it being used on him.

"Sam Winchester," he replied simply. "Your brother."

"My brother and I never spent ten minutes alone in the same room when we were eight and twelve, because we would have killed each other," he said coldly. "What happened to Sam?"

That did it. "Damn it, Dean! How could you possibly want that wuss of a brother back? You want the guy who narced on you all the time, or the one ready to watch your back?" Sam demanded.

Dean stood, so Sam did too.

"Why would we be alone in a motel room, Sam? At that age?" Dean asked, still without emotion.

"I told you, we lived out of motels and the Impala," Sam replied with a shrug.

"Where was Dad?" Dean asked.

"Out," Sam said simply, repeating pretty much Dean's standard answer when they were kids.

"And Mom?" Sam looked away from those eyes, the ones which were softening, possibly starting to believe him.

"Sam?" Dean shook him by the arm. "I asked you where Mom was. Why wasn't she watching us?"

Sam yanked his arm away. "I made it up," he said stiffly. "Forget it. You hate me, I'm a terrible brother, leave it at that."

He tried to walk out, past Dean, but Dean grabbed him again. Sam spun around defensively. A fist came at him, which he deflected instantly. A second fist flew through the air. Sam dodged it, allowing it to pass his head so he could grab Dean's arm and throw him into George's couch. Twisting the arm behind Dean's back, scowling at this weak imitation of his brother, Sam leaned over to whisper, "You're not such a great brother either. I can see why this Sam doesn't like you very much."

Unwilling to leave any obvious marks, Sam thrust his elbow into Dean's ribcage. He left a winded Dean on the couch, eyes still clouded with anger. This day just sucked out loud.


	6. Chapter 6 :The Decision

Well, this little fic has generated more response than I expected! Thanks to everyone following it and to those of you kind enough to leave reviews. It's been pointed out that I've included some inaccuracies regarding Lawrence. My apologies for that, but I did have my reasons. (Other than being too lazy to look it up. Honest!)

And now, the conclusion:

**Ch 6: The Decision**

Sam marched through the waiting room, not sparing a glance for George or Jessica. He heard her running footsteps coming after him. Sam paused at the doors leading to the parking area.

"Sam? Baby, what happened?" she asked when she caught up.

Sam glanced down briefly, holding the door open. When Jess did not walk through right away, he glared at her. "Riding or walking?"

Jessica appeared startled as she hurried through the door. Sam followed her to the rental. He did not hold her door open, simply using the remote to unlock the doors. Tense silence filled the car as he drove Jessica back to his supposed mother's house. He sat in the driveway for several minutes with the motor running.

"Sam?" Jessica asked in a timid voice. "Are we going in?"

He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You are."

"Me?" She glanced at the house before her eyes settled back on him. "Baby, it's your mother's house. Don't you want to come inside? I'll bet she'll make your favorite kind of hot chocolate."

The cold molded plastic warmed as he tried to pour his anger and frustration through his hands into it. He hated it here. Jessica was wrong. She wasn't the sweet understanding girl he loved at first sight. Mom being alive was so, so, so wrong. Were mothers really like this? And Dean missed it? And Dean. Oh, that obnoxious, self-centered, annoying, jackass...

"Sam? Baby?"

He couldn't look at fake-Jess. He couldn't. "Go inside," he said in as neutral a voice as he could manage.

"You're just going to sit out here?" she asked, her voice going up an octave. "Really?"

"No." He took a deep breath, held it for a count of twenty, let it out. "I'm going to the bar."

"Oh, well." Jess settled back into her seat. "We can do that. Don't blame you, really. I mean, after having to deal with Dean." He looked over in time to see her rolling her eyes. "That would drive anybody to drink. I can't imagine what Carmen sees in him. I mean sure, he's good looking, but there has to be more for a relationship to work, right?"

Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Jess gasped as she jumped in her seat.

"Get. Out." It took all of his willpower not to yell or scream.

Her eyes went really wide. She swallowed hard as she opened the door. "You will be coming back? Later?"

Sam let out a defeated sigh. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go."

The sweet smile, the smile he remembered so clearly, spread slowly, filled with the promise of forgiveness. "Okay, Baby. I'll be waiting."

He nodded stiffly. Some time alone, to process, was what he needed. Just a little time. And maybe a pair of jeans.

* * *

Sam nursed his whiskey, half hoping the jackass he hustled at darts last time would show up. He could use a decent fight.

Fitting into the crowd much better this time in jeans, t-shirt and a button-down overshirt, Sam sat at the far end of the bar. He could keep an eye on the door from here, too. When a familiar figure stepped in, squinting into the dim light, Sam let out a sigh. Busted.

"Hey, Sam." Dean sat on the stool next to him.

"What do you want?" Sam asked. The whiskey was doing its job, he didn't sound nearly as ticked off as he felt.

"Nothing." Dean spread his hands in surrender. He motioned to the bartender who brought a beer bottle and frosted glass over. Dean poured the beer into his glass like one of those preppie kids he liked to make fun of. "What are you doing here?"

Sam shot his brother-look-alike a glare before draining the rest of his whiskey. "Nothing."

"Looks like you're getting plowed to me," Dean said. He chuckled.

Sam could hear the strain in Dean's voice, but he really didn't care. About an hour ago he realized he had an errand to run and a good drive ahead of him before nightfall. The whiskey was just to fortify his resolve. After mulling over the meeting with George, Sam knew what he had to do. He couldn't live this life, this lie. Not even having Jessica back made this life worth it. How sad was that? Plus, among supposedly 'normal' family, Sam stuck out like a sore thumb.

Sam threw a few bills down on the bar. "It'd take a lot more than that," he stated flatly before turning away.

Now he needed a butcher shop, possibly a kosher one, for the lamb's blood. Surely a city the size of Lawrence had at least one.

"Sam!" Dean's call sounded at his back. It took every ounce of restraint Sam still possessed to ignore it. He slammed the car door of the rental, wishing he were driving the Impala, but even in this altered facsimile of life Dean owned his favorite car. Not that Sam would have it any other way, it was one of the few things here he still found promising.

* * *

When he arrived back at Mom's, he found the Impala sitting in the front drive. Sam slipped the container of lamb's blood, disguised in a plain brown paper bag, into the pocket of his new denim jacket. Silver knives were hard to come by in this town, but he guessed Mom had a full set of silver dining ware. She seemed the type.

He paused near the big black car to peer inside. Dean was sleeping behind the wheel, head leaning against the window. Just more proof this man was not his brother. The real Dean would not have fallen asleep waiting on him.

Sam opened the front door as quietly as possible. He didn't want Jess or Mom to catch him here, much less have to explain the need for a silver knife. He doubted the 'it's the only way to kill a djinn' explanation would work on them. He'd probably find himself locked up in the psyche ward of the hospital for a few days.

Mom's silver chest had a really cheesy lock. Why did she even need to lock it, he wondered, as he picked the lock. As he expected, the silver utensils were perfectly arranged. Sam selected one silver knife, tested its balance, then slipped it into his pocket.

"You know she's going to assume I took that," Dean's voice said from over his shoulder.

Sam gritted his teeth in irritation. This Dean shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him. Period.

"I don't care," he snapped, spinning around.

Dean stood just behind him, hands stuck in his pockets, watching curiously. "Are you really stealing from Mom?"

Sam put the knife in his other pocket. "Look, I just need a silver knife tonight. You can bring it back tomorrow."

The eyebrow above Dean's right eye lifted. "I can bring it back? And where will you be?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, realized the absurdity of his explanation, and slammed it shut again. "Home," he finally answered. "I hope."

"California?" Dean snorted. "Figures."

"Not exactly," Sam admitted. He glanced at his watch, it was getting late. "I have to go."

He brushed past the imitation of his brother to leave, but he could hear the familiar footsteps behind him. "Go away," he called out without bothering to turn around.

"I'm going to follow you, Sam. So you can either ride with me, or try to lose me. You and I both know I can out-drive you any day of the week."

Sam paused in his single-minded trek to the rental. It would be nice to be inside the Impala again, but this Dean was more of a liability than anything. However, Sam suspected even in this reality Dean could indeed out-drive him.

"Fine," he sighed, turning toward the black car, "but I'm driving."

The keys flashed through the air. Sam snagged them as they arced toward his face. "Just like that?" he demanded. "You're going to let me drive?"

Dean shrugged as he headed for the passenger door. "It's the only way I get to come along, right?"

Sam nodded silently as he opened the driver's door. He fell behind the wheel, like he usually did back home when it was his turn to drive. The engine fired up and Sam listened to the steady hum for a moment. It sounded good.

"Give it a tune-up recently?" he asked as he backed out.

"Yeah, it was running a little rough, so I figured I'd better take care of things before Dad decided to come back and haunt my ass for not taking care of his car." Dean chuckled.

"Not funny," Sam snapped, the image of their father's body burning permanently etched on his brain.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled.

Sam's elbow kept colliding with the container in his pocket, making driving uncomfortable. At the next red light, he pulled out the brown bag to set next to him on the seat. When he hit the interstate, he pointed the car away from Lawrence and towards the djinn's warehouse.

"Where are we headed?" Dean asked in a voice which made it clear this was merely older brother humoring younger brother.

"There's something I have to do," Sam declared.

"What's in the bag?" Dean asked, picking it up. "Does it have anything to do with your mysterious mission?"

Sam shook his head. "Dude, you really don't want to look in there. Why did you want to come along, anyway? I thought we were supposed to hate each other."

"We're brothers." Dean shrugged, studying the paper bag in his hand. "I guess maybe it was something you said in George's office, about neither one of us being a very good brother." He held up the bag, turning it around in the dim illumination from the highway lights. "It took me a few hours, and a lot of calls to Carmen, but I finally realized you were right. Neither one of us is to blame, it's both our faults."

He stuck his hand inside the bag.

"I really don't think you want to do that, Dean," Sam warned, already knowing it was a lost cause. If Dean didn't think he'd lost it before, he certainly would now.

"Yeah?" Dean chuckled. "Why? Is it illegal?" He pulled the container out with flourish, like he just caught Sam with his hand in the cookie jar. "What the hell is this?"

"Exactly what it looks like," Sam replied with resignation, pushing down on the accelerator. If the car was going fast enough, Dean shouldn't try to pull anything stupid or dangerous, like jumping out.

"It looks like blood!" Dean turned in his seat to face Sam. "Sam, what the hell is this?" He shook the container in Sam's face.

Sam calmly took it from his almost-brother to set back on the seat. "It's blood," he replied, "lamb's blood."

"Lamb's blood?" Dean's shout filled the car, overpowering the noise from the engine. "What the hell do you need lamb's blood, hell any kind of blood, for?"

"I need a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood," Sam explained calmly.

"For?" Dean demanded, sounding so much like his brother Sam smiled at it.

"It's the only way to kill a djinn," he replied.

"A what?" Dean's voice was softer now, and scared. Sam almost felt sorry for him, but he was the one who wanted to come along.

"It's a kind of genie," Sam explained. "It's killing people and I have to kill it."

"You have to kill it?" Dean asked. "With a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood?" He pulled out his cell. "Yeah, okay, Sam. Whatever you say."

Sam groaned as he snatched Dean's cell. He rolled down his window to throw it out. "I'm not crazy, Dean." The car was long gone by the time it shattered on the pavement. Sam saw one large piece fly up in his rearview mirror. "I hope you had insurance on it."

"Dude!" Dean spun around in the seat. "I can't believe you threw away my phone! My phone! Carmen might call." He glared at Sam. "What then, huh? What if Carmen calls and I don't answer? She'll think..."

"She'll think you're cheating on her?" Sam laughed. "Your little brother is driving your car to parts unknown, with a silver knife, a bottle of blood, and a crazy story and you're worried about what will happen if your girlfriend calls?" He laughed again. "Dude, you're even more screwed up here than you are back home."

"Hey, I've worked really hard getting Carmen to trust me. She's the best thing that ever..." Dean's voice trailed off. Sam waited. "What the hell do you mean I'm more screwed up here than back home?"

Sam shrugged, hoping this Dean really was just a cheap copy and wouldn't remember anything after he hopefully made it back where he belonged.

"Dean, you're my brother. I love you and I'd die for you, but you're seriously screwed up." Sam shrugged again. "Hell, we both are."

"Really?" Dean drummed his fingers on the door. "I'm pretty sure I know how screwed up I am. How are you screwed up?"

"Didn't we just cover that?" Sam asked, holding up the lamb's blood with one hand.

Dean shook his head at Sam. "Right. I'm still trying to wrap my head around my boring law school brother being the unstable one."

* * *

Sam stopped in front of the warehouse. Dean fell asleep over an hour ago, after quizzing Sam mercilessly about the djinn. None of his explanations seemed to satisfy this version of his brother, which Sam found more than a little annoying. He hadn't realized how he took Dean's trust for granted. Dean never questioned his research or his methods, only his conclusions. Sam now understood it was the reason their hunts were so successful.

He reached over to shake Dean by the shoulder. "Huh? What?" Dean blinked sleep heavy eyes at the night surrounding them. "Where are we?"

"Well, we're not in Kansas," Sam told him, opening the door. Out of the car, he dipped his knife in the lamb's blood before heading into the warehouse.

"So you think this genie, who doesn't look like Barbara Eden, is inside?" Dean asked, eying the building sceptically.

"I know it is," Sam replied. He pressed a finger against his lips as he pushed open the warehouse door.

Dean followed closely, making way too much noise for Sam's taste. They found a room with dessicated human bodies chained to a pole. Disgusted, Sam checked them out. It looked like they had been drained of all their blood. He glanced over to check on Dean.

Dean stood near the wall, eyes wide and frightened, one hand pressed against his mouth. Silently, Sam agreed. It was disgusting. He moved away to take Dean by the elbow, leading him into the next room. In this room a yellowish light filled even the dark corners. Sam stared at the far wall, thinking there was something he should see there. He heard a noise.

Sam ducked around the corner, Dean close by his side. They moved together to stand under the stairs. The djinn, far scarier now that Sam could see what it looked like, headed downstairs. It looked like a bald man covered with tattoos. Its eyes glowed with a menacing energy. Sam felt a sharp pressure on his forearm. A glance down showed him Dean was gripping his arm. He avoided seeing the frightened look on his brother's face, that type of thing always sent his stomach lurching.

The djinn reached the bottom floor and turned towards another room. Sam followed, Dean close by his side. They watched, silently, as the djinn approached a young girl hanging by her chained wrists. It checked a bag hanging by her side, a bag filled with her blood. When it drank from the bag, its eyes glowed brightly, like the blood recharged its powers. Sam's stomach did the lurching thing anyway.

Dean's hand on his arm tightened, dragging him back into a corner. The djinn left, passing right in front of their hiding place.

"We have to get out of here," Dean hissed in his ear. "Before it comes back."

Sam held up the knife. "No," he whispered, "we have to kill it."

Dean pointed into the other room. "Did you see that?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper. "Did you? It's going to do that to us! We go home and call the police." He gave Sam a 'duh' look. "Problem solved."

"Dean," Sam whispered patiently, "the police don't know how to deal with something like this. We do."

"We?" he hissed back in panic. "What the hell do you mean we?"

Sam sighed, very close to losing his temper. "Look, just go wait in the car. I'll be out in a minute."

Dean shook his head, shoving Sam toward the wall. "No, Sam. It'll kill you and...and..." He swallowed convulsively. "Drink your blood." All the color drained from Dean's face and Sam wondered, again, if there was anything of his brother in this imitation.

"Let's go. Now."

That voice sounded like Dean. Too bad Sam's mind was made up.

He headed for the stairs, determined to kill the djinn and set things back to rights.

"Sam?"

He froze. It was the one voice which still held the most power over him, even more than Dean. Sam turned his head slowly. Jessica stood in the middle of the room, wearing the beautiful white dress he dreamed of. He turned around to face her. She approached him quickly, gliding through the room as if she walked on air.

"Sam, baby," Jess crooned at him. One delicate hand stroked the side of his face. "Is it really so bad? Here you have me, and Dean has someone, just like you always wanted."

Did he? Was this Sam's wish, not just to be normal but for Dean to have some happiness too? And now he wanted to take it away, selfish person that he was.

"And you both have me," Mom said, appearing behind Jess. "I know I'm not your father, but surely I am better. I don't yell, don't expect you to follow in my footsteps. And your brother is happy. Isn't that worth something?"

"Everything," Sam breathed. "But it isn't real, is it? I'm stuck in some kind of warped dreamworld, aren't I. None of this is real."

"It feels real," Dean told him, standing next to Jess and Mom. "We can have full, long lives here and it will be real, to you."

Sam thought of his brother, fighting the djinn alone in the warehouse. His real brother, finding him chained up and his blood being drained. What would Dean do? Sam had to help his brother, he was needed back there.

There was an old wives' tale about dreams, Sam recalled.

"Aren't we good enough?" Carmen appeared beside Dean. "I'll make your brother happy, happier than he could ever be in your world. Isn't that worth it? Don't you want him to be happy?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed, thoughts rushing in circles, but one thought stood out from all the others: Dean was looking for him back in the real world, and his brother would never stop. Never.

Sam turned the knife around in his hand. He looked each of them in the eye, lingering on Dean's familiar hazel eyes. "Sorry," he whispered as the knife plunged towards his stomach.

Should it hurt this much? Sam doubled over, gasping. The caring faces standing over him, cheeks covered in tears, faded. Sam closed his eyes, desperately trying to breathe.

"Sam!" Dean's voice bellowed in his ears. "Sam."

Sam forced his eyes to open. Dean stood over him, such a familiar expression of concern and worry it made Sam smile.

"Where am I?" he asked, shocked his throat felt so sore and dry. Sam tried to sit up, but his muscles did not want to work.

"Easy, big guy," Dean told him, pushing him back down. "You've been out of it for about a day."

"Huh?" Sam blinked hard, clearing his fuzzy vision. He noticed a bag attached to the wall with a pushpin. Sam followed the tube coming from it with his eyes, right down to his arm. "Is that an IV?" he asked.

"Yeah." Dean blew out a long breath as he sat heavily on the other bed. "Didn't want you getting dehydrated."

"The djinn?" Sam asked.

"Dead," his brother replied flatly. "I found it giving you an electric hug and took care of it. You, uh, didn't wake up." Dean ran a hand over his head, rubbing hard over the top. "I was starting to get worried."

"Starting." Sam snorted in disbelief. All those images of worried-Dean had been coming from here, reality. "How long before Bobby arrives?"

Dean glanced away briefly before his gaze settled back on Sam. "Couple of hours, depending on traffic."

Sam chuckled at his brother, his real, honest-to-God brother. Relief washed over him in torrents. Jess was still gone, and he might even miss the annoying woman who was supposed to be his mother, but Dean was here. Broken, screwed up, lonely Dean, the best brother in existence, was here, right here.

"Were there any other survivors?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "A girl. I took her to the hospital before I brought you back here."

"I don't know if she's going to wake up," Sam admitted.

Dean shrugged. "The doctors said she has a good chance of recovery. Another day or two..." He shook his head. "We got there just in time for her."

Sam nearly explained what he meant, but at the intense expression on Dean's face he thought better of it. "Good," he said instead. "What about the warehouse?"

"Anonymous tip to the local cops from a payphone around the corner from the hospital, right after I helped myself to a few bags of saline." Dean gave him a small worried smile. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I was in a wreck," Sam said. "Dean, next time we find a djinn, let's bring some back-up."

Dean smiled at him. "Getting slow, Sammy. Letting a fugly get the drop on you like that."

Sam grinned. "About time you called me Sammy," he muttered. "Wake me up when Bobby gets here."

He felt the comforter move as Dean tucked him in. He wanted to laugh, but he was too damned tired. Who needed that annoying woman for a mother when he had a brother like Dean?


End file.
